laniew1: (SHIELD - Avengers)
[personal profile] laniew1
Summary: Stiles goes to college and accidentally gets hired by SHIELD.

TITLE: Stiles Stilinski: Agent of SHIELD
RATING: PG-13 (for now)
PAIRING: Gen – but Stiles/Clint (eventually)
AUTHOR: Melanie
Summary: Stiles goes to college and accidentally gets hired by SHIELD.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Marvel, MTV, etc own everything but the idea to mesh them..

Stiles Stilinski, Agent of Shield 20/?

He flies home in coach, stuffed in a tiny seat beside a heavy weight wrestler and a mom with a screaming infant he wonders if he tortured puppies in a previous life.

There’s no reading, there’s no pretending to sleep. He just sits there, shoulders hunched up around his ears and prays for no problems.


His father meets him at the airport, by himself. He would have a screaming fit but no one outside SHIELD knows that there’s anything wrong.

And there’s not supposed to be anything wrong, if he hugs his dad tighter and longer than strictly necessary it just means that he really missed him.

“No entourage?” he asks, they’re on the way to baggage claim, his dads arm is slung over his shoulder.

“Scott’s waiting in the car,” his dad says and Stiles grins.

“Tell me you cracked a window at least,” his father laughs and Stiles bounces a little.

“I parked in a spot that strictly speaking is not necessarily legal; I didn’t think you’d check bags.”

“I wasn’t going to, but they weighed my carry-on and apparently there’s a limit…” Stiles shrugs.

He’s not sure why his little rolling suitcase got the evil eye from the lady at the ticket counter and the dude with the two duffel bags and backpack got to haul all his stuff through security and then spend ten minutes stuffing them into the overhead compartments.


Scott is in the backseat of his dads car tapping away on his phone which is completely, legally parked.

“Derek says hey,” he says, he doesn’t look up still tapping away, “and Deaton wants to talk to you about,” his forehead crinkles, “something, I can’t remember what.”

“You could have at least cracked a window, look his brain has swollen and he’ll probably start bleeding from his eyes and ears soon.”

“I left it running with the air conditioner going, and he has opposable thumbs, he could have rolled down a window,” his father shrugs and gives him the ‘your best friend is an idiot’ look.


Deaton stands there, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed.

“Jesus, was there homework I forgot to do?” Stiles mutters, he rubs a hand over his head. He looks over at where Derek and Peter are kind of holding the wall up. Chris Argent is in the doorway looking for all the world like he wants to be somewhere, anywhere else.

“What were you thinking?” Deaton finally says, he shakes his head.

“Okay, going to need a bit more information than that,” Stiles says.

“You convened a coven a white witches,” Chris says, his voice has a tired, strained quality to it. Like he’s not been getting any sleep and possibly also arguing with people in a loud voice.

“I did not, I asked some white witches to help do a cleansing on a cursed dagger that I found in a museum in Helsinki,” Stiles says. “It was a coven for like four minutes, which is how long it took to do the cleansing and verify that it worked.”

Deaton sighs. “And it took about two for word to travel that a stable coven of nine had convened. Do you know what kind of danger you’ve put yourself and the others in?”

Stiles thinks of Lauren and Norman both dead.

“Yeah, I kind of do, two of them are dead,” Stiles says finally, quietly. Chris comes in then, closing the door behind him. Derek straightens and Peter’s eyes narrow.

“Dead?” Deaton asks.

“Murdered, found in their apartments,” he rubs a hand over his face. “A couple weeks ago, the others all went to ground, I don’t know where they are.”

“So the coven is broken,” Peter says.

“They need to find two white witches of equal power to replace them and the coven would be whole again,” Deaton says. “Do you know of two witches that could replace them?” he asks, he looks directly at Stiles and he thinks of the list of witches that he’d reviewed prior to selecting the ones he had.

There’s about fifteen names that he can think of and that’s just off the top of his head.

“Which is why I’m fielding phone calls from Hunters wanting to request permission to come into my territory,” Chris says. Peter raises an eyebrow at him.

“For the wolves and other supernatural creatures this might be Hale Packland, but for the Hunters this is an Argent hold and we don’t allow interlopers,” he looks over at Stiles, “I can’t hold them off for very long, eventually I’m going to have to allow one in. If only to answer the inquiry as to whether or not I’ve lost my mind and granted sanctuary to a coven of white witch’s.”

“Well it’s just me,” Stiles says. “And my dad, so unless we suddenly count as nine witches I think we’re okay.”

It doesn’t stop the feeling of foreboding or the flash of memory and he really wishes that the Clint was here and with him the Avengers.

At least then he wouldn’t have the horrible, sinking suspicion that the vision that he’d seen was in the process of playing out at this exact moment in time.


He eats lunch with Derek, there’s little in the way of conversation and that’s mostly because he’s shoving food in his mouth because airplane food doesn’t actually count as real food and Derek doesn’t talk unless asked a direct question that he can then respond to in monosyllables.

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Derek asks, he leans back in the booth, arms splayed out.

“Asgard,” Stiles says around a mouthful of burger. Derek doesn’t say anything just kind of blinks at him so Stiles finishes chewing, swallows because his mom raised him better than that, mostly. “You were expecting me to tell you we broke up.”

Derek takes a sip of his water.

“You should have brought him with you,” he says finally, his back is ramrod straight as he leans forward, elbows planting themselves on the tables edge.

“Why?” Stiles is sure this is a pack thing that he’s missing. Derek doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t look at Stiles and it takes about twenty-seven seconds for Stiles to make the connections and then he barks a laugh. “Oh my god, did you want to ask him intentions? Because dude I’m pretty sure my dad and Agent Coulson and possibly even Steve already did that.”

“You are pack,” Derek says slowly, “that makes him pack by extension, we need to be able to trust that he’s not using you to infiltrate the pack.”

“Okay, besides the fact that I think I have way better people judging skills than that…”

“Courtney,” Derek coughs and Stiles narrows his eyes at him because that’s a Scott trick.

“That was different,” Stiles says and Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“It was,” Stiles insists. Courtney had been a girl that he’d kind of gone out with a handful of times in his senior year; she’d ended up losing her shit and trying to kill Erica. Which had subsequently revealed the fact that she was a Hunter-in-training, like Allison, except her family was more in line with the Kate Argent school of Hunting and not Chris’ version.


Crawford calls as Derek’s taking him back to his jeep. Peter is leaning against the side of the building, waiting when they pull into the parking lot.

“He’s riding back to the house with me,” Derek says, “and I know he kind of freaks you out still.”

“Stop listening to my heartbeat,” Stiles mutters as he pulls his cell phone out of his coat pocket.

“Hey Crawford, what’s up?”

There’s silence on the other end.

“Crawford?” he asks, his stomach starts rolling, the cheeseburger that had been sitting happily there kind of not anymore.

“They found Micheline’s body,” Crawford says, his voice is soft, it still sounds like he’s shouting it from the rooftops the way that it echoes in Stiles’ head.

“What… how…” he leans forward, free arm wrapping around his stomach as he tries to concentrate on breathing and not having a panic attack in Derek’s car with Derek and Peter as witnesses.

“The locals are calling it a murder suicide, the boyfriend’s dead as well,” Crawford says, his voice sounds strained.

“But SHIELD thinks differently,” Stiles asks. This isn’t happening, isn’t, he can’t… he feels a warm, heavy hand against the back of his neck and it startles him slight. He glances to the left, Derek has rolled his window down and there’s something that could probably be called worry on his face; Peter is leaning down, one hand braced on the car.

They’re both staring at him and he turns his head.

“There was a picture found at the scene, SHIELD found it before the locals did because they’ve been keeping an eye on all the witches that were at the cleansing and it was a picture of all of you; Norman, Lauren and Micheline were all X’ed out, the rest of you…”

“Okay,” Stiles breathes, slowly. “Okay.”

“Agent Coulson is trying to call the Avengers back and Director Fury wants to send agents to you in the interim as a protection detail but thoughts are your pack will likely freak out about it.”

“Yeah, probably,” Stiles rubs his hand over his face. “Why don’t you come, bring the stuff we were working on, see if SHIELD will bring you on one of their jets.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to Agent Coulson and I’ll be there sometime tomorrow,” Crawford says. “Director Fury said something about reminding you to make sure that you have your ear piece in.”

“I’ll put it in; though I’m pretty sure I’m totally out of range at the moment.”



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September 2016


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